Page 45 of Healing His Mate

Ah. Yes! I know just where to go for such things.

I wake to a large foot stomping on my shoulder. “Fah! Get off me, beast!” I shout, my eyes still closed. I do not know what kind of beast it is, or what it wants, but I will offer it the meat of my right arm if it will allow me to continue sleeping. Anything to get the incessant pounding inside my skull to cease. When I open my eyes, Lahkzo’s face hovers above my own, and I hiss a breath in surprise. “What are you doing here? Get out!”

“Get out? You are in my house, Nalba.”

His words make no sense. My eyes scan my surroundings, and I find he is correct. This is not my house. This is not my bedroom. It is his. While it is an answer, it provides no comfort. “What am I doing here?”

“You came here last eve,” he explains, running a rough hand through his short silver hair. “You were very drunk. Then you started rambling on about burned skin and Old Nalba. It was all quite bizarre.”

A terrifying thought occurs to me. “Did we, um . . .”

“No,” he chuckles, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and crossing the room to pull back the window coverings. “I do not fuck unconscious females.”

The sun shining through the window is far too bright for how much my head hurts. I wince as I cover my eyes.

“I did attempt to kiss you when you first arrived,” he adds, causing my heart to drop into my stomach. “But when you pushed me away and called me ‘Waldric’ I realized you were not in your right mind. Then you fell asleep on the floor.”

I decide this onslaught of information is too much for me to process in this state. I need to return to my shop and figure out what I should do next––which project to focus on. I scramble to my feet, wobbling a bit before regaining my balance. “I thank you for your hospitality, but I should go now.”

Lahkzo stretches his arms over his head, exposing his lithe, muscular torso. There is beauty in his features, no doubt, he is just not meant to be mine. When he starts to follow me out of the room, I stop. “You do not need to walk with me,” I insist. “I can find my way back.”

“I was not going to do that,” he says plainly. I hope whoever his inara ends up being does not expect romance. She will not get it from this one.

When we make it to the first level, we run into Waldric filling a mug with water from the spigot. He registers my presence, then his mouth falls open in shock when he sees Lahkzo behind me. His gaze drifts up, landing on my rumpled clothing and messy mane, then over to Lahkzo’s bare chest. His orange eyes widen and fill with rage.

“You live here too?” I ask, not knowing what to say, but too panicked to remain quiet.

He shakes his head disapprovingly as he slams his mug on the ledge beneath the window, sloshing the water over the sides and onto the floor. Then he storms out.

CHAPTER 23

WALDRIC

“Wait! Waldric, please!” Nalba shouts as she follows me out the door of my home, close on my heels. “I can explain this!”

My claws dig into my palms as I stomp along the path. The pulling of the bandages against my burned skin is nothing compared to the pain slicing through my chest. I would endure a thousand bombs exploding in my face if I could avoid this feeling.

The sight of Nalba with Lahkzo, my housemate . . . a growl escapes my lips at the too-recent memory. Her hair mussed from sleep, or something else. Something I will not name even in my mind, as it will hurt too much.

Lahkzo and Nalba were pleasure mates before her injury. That is not new information. It did not bother me then and knowing he has fucked her does not bother me now, because I knew the arrangement did not involve emotions from either one.

But to see them together again, after all Nalba and I have shared . . . it guts me. Why do I continue to bother with this? With her?

“Waldric!” she cries out again, closer now.

I stop on the main path, turning on my heel so fast that she nearly collides with my chest. “Then do so.”

“I, um,” she starts, her voice shaky. Her gaze lands on my bandages and she winces. “I was in a dark place, after the explosion. I blamed myself for your suffering, for Ahlvo’s. I still do. I started drinking the ale I have on hand.” Her shoulders begin to shake, and she drops her hands to her sides in defeat. “I wanted a distraction from my own shame. I-I do not remember coming here to see Lahkzo. But I awoke on his floor. Nothing occurred. We did not mate. I swear it.”

Nalba’s eyes are filled with unshed tears––a rare sight for her. She is not one to physically express her emotions like this. It does provide some solace, but not enough for me to forget what she has done. “I believe you,” I tell her honestly, before turning and stomping away.

“Wait! If you believe me, then why are you angry?” she asks, running around me and blocking my path.

“Why?” I shout back, finally letting my rage take the lead. “Because! Because after all this time. After everything, you still do not seek me out. I am an afterthought to you. Someone to pity, if acknowledged at all.” Stepping around her, I continue on, eager to get away from the female who still fails to realize she holds my heart in her hands. Over my shoulder, I add, “You could have come tome, Nalba. But you did not.”

“I felt guilty for what happened!” she replies. “You are the last person I wanted to burden with my emotional turmoil after what I did to you.”

My feet stop moving. We now stand in the middle of the path with members of the clan shooting us questioning glances as they pass. If she wishes to do this now, however, I will not deny her that. The time has come, it seems.

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